Page 30 of Wish Upon a K-Star

I know the hate mail is from the HyeriTopAnti account, the one I suspect Kwak Dongha runs.

But Hongjoo says I’m not to worry myself about figuring that out. She promises the company is taking care of it. That they’re taking the threat very seriously. In the meantime, I’m not to accept any food deliveries for now and only eat what she drops off for me or what I get directly from the company cafeteria.

It’s not an issue. I can barely eat anything, as my anxiety burns a hole in my stomach like an ulcer. And the worst thing about it is that in the past couple of days I’ve actually thought that this is better than any diet I could force myself on.

Sometimes I wonder if this is really the life I worked so hard for. Wasn’t I supposed to feel excited or content when I achieved my dreams? Instead, I just feel tired all the time.

At least I don’t have any other scheduled appearances outside of OCM . So, I can hide away, telling myself that most threatening letters are fake. That I probably shouldn’t worry about it. That giving it to Hongjoo and the company is enough.

And today I don’t have time to worry about it.

Because today I’m getting married.

I am currently encased in the bulbous skirt of a bridal hanbok in bright reds and golds. The jeogori is tight around my shoulders so I can’t fully lift my arms. It’s the long-sleeve top of a traditional Korean dress, shorter than a crop top, knotted shut with a single loop called an otgoreum. I always feel self-conscious the jeogori will pop up and show the hanbok petticoat underneath (I think the woman helping me dress called it a sokchima). But with the bridal outfit, a long top coat, or wonsam, is worn. You can’t even see the jeogori, which makes me wonder why the costume person forced me to put it on when it restricts all my movement.

The wonsam trails low in front of me, the bright green of the overcoat a huge contrast to the vivid red of the skirt. And the sleeves are like two feet longer than my arms, so I’m having trouble keeping them pushed up right now so I can play on my phone as I get my styling done.

“Are you sure I have to wear the full getup?” I ask as David carefully slicks back my hair. I pick up the long gold-plated binyeo that will be speared through the tight bun he’s creating at the nape of my neck.

“Be grateful I’m not making you wear the bridal wig.” He nods toward the monstrosity that looks like a braided re-creation of Darth Vader’s helmet.

“Thank you for your generosity,” I mutter. “Where’s Jeongho?”

“He’s at the salon, bothering another stylist.”

I laugh. “You can’t keep going through assistants,” I say. “You’re way too busy to do everything on your own.”

“The pressures of being so in-demand for my skills.” He gives an exaggerated sigh.

I sigh along in sympathy.

The door bursts open. “Eonni!” Sohee shouts. “David-oppa!” She gives him a quick air-kiss before turning to me with a wide grin.

“Sohee?” I get out through my confusion.

She squeals as she grabs my hands, jumping up and down. “Look at you! It’s like you’re in a sageuk drama! You look like my eomma in her old wedding photos!”

Sohee looks delighted, but I’m still confused. “What are you doing here?”

“I was invited as a guest.” She’s still looking me over. She runs her hands over the bright red folds of my skirt. They trace the gold embroidery at the edges. “I wish they’d told us it was a traditional wedding. I’d have asked to wear a hanbok too.”

“But what about your schedules?” I ask. “Don’t you have to be with your group?” Is the company really letting her appear in the show?

“We don’t have anything today. And I really wanted to be here. What kind of best friend would I be if I missed your wedding?”

I want to remind her that it’s fake. But I feel tears suddenly pricking at my eyes. I didn’t realize I’d be so emotional to see her here. “Thanks for coming,” I choke out.

She smiles and tries to hug me. It’s more of an awkward lean and back pat through all the layers of material I’m wearing. “Don’t wrinkle her,” David warns as he stabs the binyeo through my tight bun; it makes me wince a bit.

“Today is going to be fun,” Sohee declares.

I laugh. “I’m not sure about that. But it’ll be a little easier with you here.”

“Okay!” Hongjoo comes in. “Who’s ready to get married?”

The ceremony itself is quick. It’s blazing hot outside, and I think Han-PD knows that I’m two seconds away from heatstroke under all my layers.

Minseok’s traditional hanbok is much simpler. Made of the same material, but a quarter of the layers. Plus, he can use his hands. I have to be led around like a child, with two older women on either side of me, helping me bow and drink the ceremonial water. I feel like I’m delirious by the time we’re brought inside for the “reception.”

As I walk in, loud cheers erupt and I stumble backward, ramming into Minseok with a soft “Oof.”

Jaehyung, Jun, and Robbie race forward, singing a congratulations song used for anything from a promotion to a new baby.

“Chuka-ham- ni - da ! Chuka-ham- ni - da !” they crow as they dance around us, high-fiving Minseok.

I try to smile along, but all I can think is that I want to drink a gallon of water.

“Eonni, are you thirsty?” Sohee asks, coming over to me. I suppose she’s my sole wedding guest.

I nod enthusiastically. But before Sohee can deliver, Minseok is there with a cup.

“Here,” he says.

“I can do it,” I start to say, but when I lift my hands, my long sleeves cover them.

“It’ll be faster if you just let me help you.” Minseok doesn’t wait for a reply. He just cups my chin and lifts the water to my lips. His fingers are firm but gentle as they hold me in place. And our eyes meet over the metal rim of the cup.

I’m glad for the material covering my hands now as they involuntarily clench into fists.

“Hello, my daughter!”

I almost spit out the water as Hyejun escorts my mother in.

Her bright red cocktail dress sparkles as she sashays over to me.

I know I should say something. Or at least smile. But my brain feels like it’s malfunctioning; what is she doing here?

Mom takes care of it for me. Stepping forward with a bright smile she wraps me in a hug that suffocates me with all the layers between us. When her smooth cheek brushes against mine, she whispers, “Close your mouth, you look like you’re trying to catch flies.”

I do as I’m told, but I’m still not fully processing this.

“I—I can’t believe you’re here,” I stutter and hope to god that it reads as excitement to see my long-distance mother.

She must read my hesitancy because her smile drops before she pulls me into another forced hug. “I had to come. It’s my daughter’s wedding.”

I let out a surprised laugh at hearing my mom say those words.

Mom scowls—clearly this was not the reaction she wanted from me.

To make up for it, I force a bright smile. “I just can’t believe you came.”

She laughs. “How could you doubt I’d be here on such an important day?”

I’m saved from forcing a fake answer as one of the attendants comes over to direct her to sit behind the table with Hyejun for the pyebaek.

The decorations in here include a large Korean folding screen painted with soft watercolors of trees and cranes. Mom and Hyejun settle behind a low table set in front. It’s covered in a blue-and-red cloth. Wooden and brass stands hold towers of chestnuts and ginkgo nuts, dried meats, and dates. There are two giant dried fish laid across the table.

The cameras start rolling and the attendant explains the pyebaek for the audience.

This part of the ceremony is when the family throws dates and chestnuts at us to decide how many kids we’ll have. I eye the stacks of at least three dozen of each sitting on the table. I really hope it’s not meant to be a literal count.

My mom tosses a gentle handful, but Hyejun has a glint in his eyes as he loads up two giant handfuls and lobs them at us. I let out a small scream as I recoil from baby-blessing projectiles. Minseok catches me before I roll back like a turtle on its shell. But even when I’m steady again, his arm stays comfortably around my shoulders.

“Careful, Hyejun-ah, you might go bankrupt buying gifts for all these nieces and nephews,” Minseok jokes.

I force myself to smile along. I can see that my mom is watching me, stony-faced. She’s not happy about something. And I’m sure I’ll hear about it later.

An attendant hands me a fresh date.

I’m about to eat it when the woman stops me. “It’s not for eating. You have to hold it in your mouth and your husband will bite into the other side.”

I almost choke at the word “husband.”

“Um, what part of the ceremony is this?” I ask to cover my awkwardness.

“You two have to see who gets the seed. They will be the boss in the relationship,” the attendant explains.

“Okay!” Minseok says brightly. “Like a competition? Nice.”

He gestures for me to bite into the date.

I’m not sure if I like the idea of this. It feels like a game made to force a couple to kiss. But I have no choice, everyone is watching, waiting for us to begin. So, I put the very end of the date in my mouth, barely gripping the skin with my teeth. I don’t care about getting the seed. I’m more worried about keeping our lips as far apart as possible. Shows love these forced-proximity games. Like when idols are made to do a Pepero kiss or pass thin pieces of paper with their mouths.

I just need to stay as still as possible. Of course, when that’s your goal, suddenly your entire body starts to shake. I feel like I’ll drop the date in a second if Minseok doesn’t hurry up.

But the moment he gets too close, I can feel his breath on my mouth and I lean back.

“Hyeri, stop moving!” Hyejun commands from behind the table.

“I’m trying,” I grit out through clenched teeth.

“Just keep still.” Minseok moves in again, tilting his head to the side. It reminds me of the moment in dramas before a deep kiss.

“Don’t!” I squeak, dropping the date in the process.

“Hyeri-ya!” Minseok whines with a laugh. But he’s still close enough that I can see his pupils are quaking. And I realize he’s nervous too.

“Sorry, sorry,” I say, plucking up another date from the bowl. “I’ll stay still this time.”

I carefully hold the skin of the date with my teeth. And this time, when Minseok approaches, I do my best not to move. But as he leans in, my eyes start to cross trying to keep him in my sights. I want to close my eyes, but I worry it would be read as too brazen. Isn’t that what someone does when they’re expecting to get kissed?

Finally, I can’t handle it anymore. I don’t care how it looks, I can’t watch him moving closer and closer. I squeeze my eyes shut. But without something to focus on, I become dizzy and start to sway

Minseok solves the issue by cupping my cheeks firmly. I grip his wrists, to further steady myself by holding on to something.

Then I feel the pressure of him biting down on the date.

“Steady,” he murmurs, and the low timbre sends shivers down my spine. I hold my breath, trying not to drop the date. But as soon as I feel him tug I let go. I don’t care about winning or getting the seed, I care about this being over so I can catch my breath.

“Minseok wins!” Robbie declares, and I finally open my eyes. He’s still sitting way too close, almost the entire date in his mouth. I hold a measly centimeter of the skin in my teeth.

“Guess I’m the boss.” Minseok winks at me.

“Keep telling yourself that,” I mutter, and then glance at the production crew.

A few hide smiles and I know that was definitely caught on the mics. I can’t help but look at my mother, who is shaking her head in disapproval.

After the shoot ends, I’m whisked away to change into normal clothing. I’m grateful to be out of the heavy wedding hanbok, but I’m anxious the entire time I’m changing. I know my mom will want to talk. And this is the first time we’ve spoken since I told her I lost the Idol Academy role.

I leave the changing room, moving toward the back of the venue where the vans and cars are parked.

Beside them sits a coffee truck. The kind friends and family send to sets to cheer on the production. This one has my name and face on the banner: Shin Hyeri Fighting! Cheering for my princess! From your abeoji.

I’ve never had someone send me a coffee truck before.

The crew is already gathered around it, happily ordering coffee drinks. It will definitely buy me a lot of goodwill on set. I remember when I first got onto CiPro , my mom insisted I bring these expensive vitamin drinks for the crew. She claimed making good with the staff would go a long way. But we were forbidden from bringing outside drinks or food onto set. I wonder if they’d have made a difference. Would they have swayed the staff not to air my most embarrassing on-camera moments?

Hyejun slings an arm around my shoulder. “How much you wanna bet Eomma organized this for good family PR?”

I shrug nonchalantly, because I don’t want Hyejun to pick up on my disappointment at the thought. For one brief second, I thought maybe my dad had really put in the effort. But Hyejun’s right, it’s much more likely Mom did this and slapped our dad’s name on it.

“At least everyone’s happy.”

I stiffen when I hear the telltale click of Mom’s high heels approaching. “Hyeri, I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” She’s talking in her clipped, no-nonsense voice. She’s definitely still upset at me.

“Sorry, I was just noticing Dad’s coffee truck. It’s nice, isn’t it?” I’m hoping the sight of the happy banners might change her mood.

They don’t. “I’d like to talk in private, Hyeri.”

“Eomma,” Hyejun interjects. “Why don’t we all get a drink together?”

But Mom ignores his offer. “Hyeri, come.” She sweeps past the truck, expecting me to obey.

I sigh and pat Hyejun on the shoulder. At least he tried.

I follow her behind the building, close to where all the production vans are parked.

“Is everything okay?” I begin even though I know it’s not.

She crosses her arms, her lips turned down in disapproval. “Is this how you’ve been behaving here? Throwing yourself at Minseok?”

That is not what I was expecting her to say. “Wait, what are you talking about?”

“You were acting too familiar with him on camera. You’re not here to actually flirt with him, you’re here to fix your reputation. Bimbos don’t keep fans.”

I feel like I’ve been slapped. Her words sting just as bad as an open palm. Worse. I blink quickly to stave off threatening tears. Crying never softens my mom. If anything, she’ll yell at me for ruining my makeup.

“I-I’m sorry.”

“Sorry isn’t enough. How are you going to fix this?”

I’m racking my brain for an answer that she’ll find acceptable when I hear the shuffle of footsteps behind us.

“Hey, what’s going on?” Minseok calls out.

Mom’s eyes widen in surprise.

I close mine in utter embarrassment. Minseok is all smiles as he walks over, but I can see his jaw is tense. He clearly heard part of our conversation.

“It’s nothing,” I say.

My mom’s face has transformed back into her sweet congenial facade. “I’m just having a quick chat with my daughter. It’s nothing serious, just catching up. You should go back to set. Get yourself a coffee from the truck Hyeri’s father sent.”

“I’m sure I must have misheard, but I’m hoping you’re not being too critical of Hyeri when she’s been working so hard.” Minseok’s tone is pleasant, but his expression is cold.

Surprise at his quiet defense of me wars with my continuing embarrassment. Why isn’t he pretending he didn’t hear anything like a normal person? Why does he always insist on making things even more difficult for me?

“Excuse me?” Mom says pleasantly, though her smile has dropped a degree.

Please let this go , I silently beg him with my eyes.

Of course, Minseok doesn’t. “Your daughter is doing really well with these shoots considering the way the show was sprung on her.”

Now Mom’s smile is completely gone. “This show is the only thing saving her drowning career.” Little lines are forming next to my mother’s mouth, which is a sign that things are getting bad. Mom would rather die than let her frown lines show. “She needs to learn how to avoid bad publicity and endear audiences to her better. Once she has them on her side, the media will fall into line.”

“Hyeri is talented. She was one of the hardest-working idols I know,” Minseok says, and my mouth practically falls open in shock. I don’t think I’ve ever heard him say that before.

“Well, she’s not an idol anymore, is she?” my mother says bitterly.

“Yes, but surely you can’t blame her for how that happened, right?” Minseok replies, and I feel a flush rising up my neck. Can’t he just leave this alone? I can see my mom’s lips pursing in a tight line. She’s angry, but she would never lose her temper completely at Minseok. Not when he’s such a huge star. She pinches my arm, adding an urgent twist, a signal that I need to step in and fix this now .

“Minseok-ssi, leave!” I grit out, trying not to let my voice squeak.

He gives me a startled look. Clearly, he thinks I should be groveling at his feet for the few kind words he’s bestowed on me. But I never asked him to help me.

“This is between me and my mother,” I tell him. My mom’s pinching fingers loosen a bit and I breathe out a little sigh. “Can you please go?”

He looks upset. Like my words somehow hurt him. But then the expression is wiped away as he shakes his head.

“Sorry for interrupting.” He bows to my mother in apology. “I can see I overstepped.”

When he lifts his head again, I swear I see disappointment on his face. It feeds my annoyance, growing it into hot anger. He has no right to be disappointed in me.

As he strides away my mother leans closer to speak in a harsh whisper. “Don’t embarrass me any further, Hyeri. I will not be happy with you if you mess things up more.”

“Yes, Mother,” I reply obediently as I watch Minseok turn the corner back to set. If my fake wedding is any indication of how my fake marriage will play out, this is going to be an excruciating summer.